Absence of Presence
Has anyone seen me? I know I used to be here,
perhaps there, somewhere. I feel so lost, much like
bones withering away into dust. But in a breeze.
I feel like a nine-tailed cat, standing straight and tall
then bent over in marsh winds waving to all at the lake,
lost fantasies rise skyward. Passion blooms; life après.
Depth of a cranky shade of listless yet excited bliss.
Blessed by the thoughts and prayers of strangers, love
enhanced by a whisper. But has anyone seen me?
Elders cry for the children, begging souls to return home.
Keep of life’s clock, turn the key and spike the pendulum
humming a sonnet in rhyme. Am I a musical note?
As the demons and hunger invoked sincere repentance
for thieving loaves of bread. Whilst all distressed lives calmly
exhaled their last before the hot ovens inhaled the dead.
Into a grave with 7 million others! I feel the chills of those
evenings long forgotten, repent your worst, tarry to knit your
burial throw, but please, look into the corner, next to the bin.
Perhaps I’m there, or just maybe, I’m in the dybbuk box!